


Dust

by Aliea



Series: for you to live [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Motherly love, Tea, dusting, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Hudson can not help but dust.</p><p> </p><p>-A continuation of the 'For you to Live' series.-</p><p>Our boys are slowly getting there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Set around a week or so after Waves.

The dust in 221B had always been a topic of deep discussion and arguments between its occupier and it's landlady (not its housekeeper!). 

Sherlock took pride in the dust, it helped to let him know if his meddling brother had been, it also just added to the atmosphere that was 221B.

But Mrs Hudson insisted on dusting at least once a week, and at the very least then once every two weeks.

The time had come for the dusting to happen and the customary humming of Mrs Hudson walking up the stairs was accompanied by the smell of polish as she dusted the stair railing on her way up.

As she entered the flat she continued to hum as she placed her box of cleaning supplies on the floor and moved to the windows and opened the curtains.

As sun light entered the darkroom a moan emanated from the sofa causing Mrs Hudson to jump, her hand going to her chest and fisting the purple fabric of her dress as she stared wide eyed at the mess sprawl out on the sofa.

"Sherlock Holmes! I swear you will be the death of me!"

A moan answered her and the mess moved onto its side and curled up into itself as it hid from the light.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson asked quietly as she moved over to the sofa.

"Must you be so loud Mrs Hudson?" A voice asked from the mess.

"I'm being rather quite young man!" She hissed just as quietly as before. "What is going on? Do I need to call John?"

"John is away."

Understanding dawned on the landlady and her agravation towards the mess on the sofa soften.

Things between her two boys had been rough over the last year. She had heard plenty of arguments as well as laughter, but she knew they were both trying to fix a relationship that was broken almost beyond repair.

"Where is he?" She asked as she moved into the kitchen with all intention to make a cup of tea.

"Brighton. He said he would be a week, it has been close to two."

"You know John needs alone time these days dear, I'm sure he is perfectly okay." She responded filling the kettle and pulling out everything she needed to make tea.

"He is okay in the sense that he is alive."

"But?" She tried to encourage as she went to look at Sherlock as the kettle boiled, leaning against the back of John's chair, though it wasn't really his chair because he had yet to move back in.

"Jason, Jason is holding him back. He is over shadowing everything and I can not fight a ghost Mrs Hudson! How can I?" Sherlock suddenly sat up and faced Mrs Hudson. "He is everywhere when it comes to John, he clings to John like a cape, like dust and I can not move it aside, can not dust it off to get through to the man I love!" Sherlock ran his fingers through his messy, tangled curls before getting to his feet and grabbed his violin and bow, and instantly filled the flat with deep, sorrowful music.

Mrs Hudson knew that was his way of telling her that no further discussion was needed. He just needed to play, to think, or to not think. Either way she gave him what he needed and went about making the tea before moving around the flat with practiced ease, tidying and dusting as she moved.

Sherlock’s music continued the whole time, never changing tempo, just moving from one mournful tune to the next.

"You know, John loves you too, he truly does, because if he didn't he would never have come back." Only music answered her as she stared to dust above the fireplace. "John is a strong willed man, he wouldn't do anything unless he truly wanted to and he does want to be with you."

"Then why is he not here!" The music stopped and she turned to find Sherlock bow and violin still in hand but no longer ready to be played. "I went to him, I followed-"

"Oh Sherlock."

"-he said he hated me still, or at least a part of him does." He winced and closed his eyes shaking his head slightly. "I can not get those words out of my head."

Mrs Hudson went to him then, gently took the violin and bow from his hands before wrapping her arms around him in a motherly hug.

"He's going to leave."

"Actually I was going to ask if I could move back in." John's voice was calm, steady and the impact of the words was like a soothing balm to Sherlock’s fraid emotions.

Pulling back Mrs Hudson turned to the door and took in Doctor Watson with a critical eye. She would say she never favoured her boys one over the other. But Sherlock was like the son she never had and at times she found it hard not to like Sherlock more.

John gave a small smile to her before dropping the bag he had in his hands just inside the door and looking to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry I was longer than I told you I would be."

"You went to Australia." Was Sherlock’s reply his eyes going to the tag on the handle of John's bag.

"Yes, only for two days, but I...needed to go."

"I'll just go." Mrs Hudson suddenly said feeling the atmosphere with the flat changing. Moving towards the door she stopped just next to John and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "He loves you John, and he is not a ghost."

John smiled and as she looked into his eyes she gasped. They were clear, bright and not at all over shadowed, she was looking at the John she knew well, the one that laughed easily and had been totally devoted to Sherlock from day one.

"I know Mrs H." He said squeezing her hand and turning to look at Sherlock again. "I know."

He let go of her hand allowing her to move into the hall leaving the two men alone. As she reached the stairs she turned back slightly to watch as John walks up to Sherlock placing his hands on either side of Sherlock’s face. He said something,  a smile on his lip, that caused Sherlock to smile also before the taller man lent down and kissed John softly.

Blushing Mrs Hudson turned, her hand over her mouth as tears stung her eyes. 

Her boys were going to be just fine.


End file.
